Innocent
by Skovko
Summary: Everyone thinks Drew killed the teenager next door. He has no alibi. They can't prove anything though. He's lost friends and family due to being a suspect. He's lonely. So when a reporter enters the bar he's at and pretends to be a fangirl of a murderer, he goes along with her game to feel someone close to him for a short time. He doesn't know what will come after that night.
1. Reporter

Drew took a sip of his whiskey and watched the woman that had just entered the bar. He knew exactly who she was. Honestly, he was a bit of a fan of her work. Parker Cage. She was a reporter for a well known online news paper. She always covered criminal cases, and several times she had helped police crack cases by going in where they couldn't.

He sighed. If she was at this bar, she was there for him. Unless two suspected killers were in there drinking, which he highly doubted. He watched her as her metallic blue eyes looked around. Her wine red hair hang loose in big, soft curls. Just like her photos. What had changed was her outfit. She never wore anything like that on the photos he had seen of her online. She was in a super short, tight, black dress combined with black heels and a black purse.

"Fuck!" He muttered.

Her eyes had stopped searching and she was staring directly at him. She put on a smile and walked towards him. He was hanging at the corner of the counter with his glass, watching her as she came closer. He was curious as to how she wanted to play this out.

"Hi," she said.  
"Hello," he said.  
"I'm Parker," she said.  
"I'm Drew," he said.  
"I know," she giggled. "I'm a bit of a fan."

His eyes widened for a second. He hadn't expected her to be honest and tell him she was a reporter, but he sure as hell hadn't expected her to pretend to be a fangirl. He knew a lot of people had sick fantasies when it came to killers, and that was how she chose to play it up. He could tell her he knew exactly who she was but he decided against it. He wanted to see where she was gonna take it.

"Buy me a drink?" She asked.

He waved at the bartender, pointed at his glass of whiskey and held up two fingers. The bartender nodded and started filling two glasses. Meanwhile Drew emptied the glass he already had. The new drink was placed in front of him seconds later.

"Thanks," she took a sip of her glass. "You know, you're so much more sexy in real life."  
"So they say," he smirked.  
"Right, you must have girls falling for you all over. You're famous," she said.  
"Not for the right reasons," he said.  
"That depends who you're asking," she said.

She licked her lips and leaned closer.

"How did you do it? How did it make you feel holding the power between life and death?" She asked.  
"What makes you think I did it?" He asked.

He hadn't done it. He knew he was the main suspect but they couldn't prove anything because he hadn't fucking done it. He hadn't killed the girl next door. Dana Brooke was a beautiful 16 year old who had lost her life too soon. She had been found hanging from a tree in the garden but it was clear it wasn't a suicide. There were marks on her body from being beaten with a stick that was found left in the garden. Someone had tied rope around her neck after she died and tried making it look like a suicide. Tried and failed miserably.

"I'll sleep with you if you tell me," she said.

He stared at her for two seconds. She had really just offered him her body in exchange for information. He couldn't deny she was attractive, and he hadn't gotten laid in ages. He sure could use getting in between the legs of a woman like her.

"Alright," he scratched his beard. "I'll tell you afterwards. Deal?"  
"Deal," she said.

They both emptied their glasses and left the bar. They walked in silence back to his house. She stared at the word "MURDERER" spraypainted across his door as he unlocked it. If she had questions about why he still lived there, she didn't ask them. Instead she walked straight into his house as if she didn't fear for her own safety. He began to wonder if she was wearing a microphone. She followed him to the bedroom and threw her purse on the bed.

"Come here," he said.

He pulled her close and kissed her. He pulled the dress up over her head and looked down her body. No microphone. He eyed the purse on the bed. There probably was a recorder in it. He forced his eyes back to her when she dropped to her knees, opened his jeans, yanked jeans and briefs down, and took his dick in her mouth.

"Oh, fuck!" He hissed. "Just like that, baby. Just like that."

He closed his eyes and got lost in pleasure. It had been too fucking long. No woman dared getting near him ever since he was named all over the medias as a suspect. He was lonely. He had lost friends and family because of this. He knew the woman on her knees in front of him wanted something from him but he would take it. He needed to feel someone close to him again, even if it only was for a short time.

"Come up here," he said.

She stood up again and licked her lips with a smile. She was the devil in disguise. A pure temptress. He stepped out of his jeans and briefs, and pulled off his shirt. She opened her bra and let it fall to the floor. His hands automatically went for her breasts, touching them for a few seconds before he yanked her up against his chest, leaned down and kissed her, lifted her up and threw her on the bed. He tore her thong off and crawled up between her legs, hovering above her like a predator about to get its prey.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He asked.  
"Fuck me!" She demanded.

He pushed inside her fast and buried himself balls deep. She gasped and scratched her nails down his back.

"You wanted this!" He growled.  
"God, yes! Don't stop!" She begged.

He wasn't gonna stop. It felt too good being with a woman again. He kept on with his long, hard thrusts for a while. He eyed her purse again. It was right next to him. He needed to see what was inside it. He forced her head to the opposite side, holding his hand on her cheek, leaning down to talk in her ear while his free hand went for the zipper on her purse.

"You wanna know how I did it?" He started speeding up his thrusts. "I took a big stick in the garden and beat her over and over. She cried and screamed and begged me to stop but I didn't."

Her purse was open. There was no recorder inside. Just a phone, keys, a wallet and a lip balm. He pulled the phone out of the purse.

"Once she was dead, I tied a rope around her pretty throat. Watching her hang from that tree was so beautiful," he said.

She whimpered and he could tell it was a mix of fear and pleasure. His thrusts came faster and harder. He wanted to break her the only way he could. He wanted her to fear him and still cum. He was so sick and tired of people thinking he did it. All those lies he had just said made his stomach turn. He never wanted to see poor Dana dead.

"I wanna do it again," he said. "My god, you're so fucking beautiful."

Her phone needed a password but that didn't matter. He could see no programs were running in the background. She wasn't recording anything. He put the phone back in the purse and pushed the purse down on the floor before he sank his teeth into her neck. She cried out as soon as she felt the pain. He managed to keep thrusting through her orgasm before letting go too.

He held still, kissing her neck to soothe the pain, slowly moving his lips up to her lips again. For a few seconds she was a beautiful woman in his bed and nothing else. Reality soon came crashing down. He rolled down next to her, stared up at the ceiling, awaiting her move. She stood up, got dressed without a word, grabbed her purse from the floor and stormed out of his house.

"Great, you scared her away, you brute," he spoke to himself. "But she did ask for it. She did ask for you to tell her. And so you lied. You fucking lied, Drew. And now you're talking to yourself. That's just fucking great. Because no one else wants to talk to you anymore. They all think you're a fucking murderer."

He got out of bed, walked over to the window and stared at the tree in the neighbor's garden. He had been lucky enough not to see her actual hang there. He only knew what everyone else knew.

"I'm sorry, Dana," he said lowly.

He had been home that night but he had been dead drunk and sleeping after celebrating a friend's birthday. Ex friend. He had no friends anymore. They all thought he had done it. He had no alibi. He was asleep, and his drunk mind hadn't heard a thing. Her screams hadn't woken him up.


	2. She mattered

Drew raised his head from his glass of whiskey and looked at Parker. It had been a week since she had come to the bar and gone home with him. He had studied the online paper everyday. There was no article about him. Whatever she was planning, sleeping with him and getting his confession hadn't been enough. She was either planning something bigger or waiting for the right moment to strike.

He gave her a once-over. She wasn't dressed like the fake fangirl she pretended to be last week. This was the Parker Cage he had seen pictures of online. Slim, black pants, an ivory gold blouse, black ankle boots and the same black purse. Her eyes went straight to his corner spot at the counter. She walked over to him with a little smile on her face. A smile that didn't reach her eyes. At least it looked real this time.

"Hi, Drew," she said.  
"Parker," he tipped his glass. "Back for more?"  
"No, I..." She licked her lips nervously. "I'm not sure why I'm here. To apologize maybe. I don't know."  
"Don't worry, you weren't bad in bed. No need to apologize," he smirked.

She blushed and he kept that smirk on his face while he emptied his drink.

"So why haven't you posted my confession yet?" He asked.

Her jaw dropped in surprise.

"You know who I am?" She asked.  
"Of course. I knew the second you walked in last week. I'm a fan of your work," he said.  
"A fan?" She chuckled.  
"Or used to be. I guess it's true what they say about never meeting your idols," he shrugged. "So why haven't you posted it?"  
"I don't post lies," she said.  
"What makes you think I lied?" He asked.  
"The tone in your voice. You cared about the girl. You were sad. I could tell it wasn't you. To be honest, I never was sure to begin with but you're the only name thrown out there by the police so I had nowhere else to begin," she said.

He swirled the ice cubes around in the glass before placing it down on the counter.

"So you sleep around for stories. Even if you believe me, it doesn't matter much. I'm just another name on your list of men," he said.  
"You're the first one I've ever done that with," she said.  
"I don't believe you," he said.  
"You said you were my fan. Why? So many reporters do what I do. Why me? What makes my work special?" She asked.  
"No one does what you do," he smiled. "If they don't got a story, they create one. They can always apologize for being wrong later and don't give a fuck about who they hurt while doing it. You don't do that. If there's no story to tell, you don't post anything. You hunt down the truth and nothing else."  
"So what makes you think I'm lying to you right now about only sleeping with you?" She asked.

He stood up without a word and walked out of the bar. His life had been turned upside down since Dana was killed, and this last week had sent him through a bunch of emotions as well. His craving to be near someone, meeting someone he looked up to, being scared his fake confession might get posted, feeling relieved that nothing has come out, feeling used, feeling like he had used her. He was confused.

"Drew, wait!" She yelled.

He turned around to see her come running towards him.

"What do you want?" He asked.  
"The truth," she said. "So let me help you find it and clear your name."  
"The truth," he nodded sadly. "Of course. The truth. Not interested."  
"You come here every Friday, and so will I until you give in," she said.  
"It's the only place I'm still welcome. Guess my money is good enough for them even though the bartender barely speaks to me," he said. "Don't fucking ruin my sacred place for me."

She took a step closer and smirked.

"But I will. I'll come every week. I'll even buy you drinks. Maybe throw in a bag of peanuts sometimes," she said.  
"Just fucking come with me," he sighed. "Get the truth out there and leave me alone afterwards."

She let out a giggle in victory. He rolled his eyes, turned around and started walking. She quickly walked up next to him. He kept his smile hidden from her as they walked in silence back to his house. She believed him. She was the first one to do so. It meant something. Even if she didn't get the truth out there, it still meant something.

"You should paint over this," she said.

She ran her fingers over the word "MURDERER" on his front door. He took out his keys and put them in lock.

"I did," he unlocked the door. "Twice."  
"Oh," she said sadly.  
"I suppose I should be grateful that no one has thrown bricks through my windows yet. They did steel my mailbox though and cut down the beautiful sunflowers I had in my garden. They were placed on Dana's grave like some sort of sick, symbolic meaning," he said.  
"By who?" She asked.  
"I don't know," he shrugged. "It could be anybody. Everybody thinks I did it."  
"Who do you think did it?" She asked.

He started walking while motioning his hand in the air for her to follow. They walked into the bedroom and over to the window.

"That's the tree," he pointed.

He stepped away so she could watch.

"Damn, you can watch from your bedroom. That must be horrible for you," she said.  
"She was in foster care in there. I believe her foster dad Shane McMahon did it," he said.  
"Why?" She asked.  
"He always beats the kids. Dana befriended me. She told me everything and showed me the bruises time after time," he said.  
"Why didn't you report it?" She asked.  
"I did. So many times. Nothing ever came of it. He's a damn good liar," he said.

He sighed deeply and moved in behind her. They stood in silence for a few seconds, watching the dark garden and the tree in it. He stood close to her. He could smell the sweet scent of her hair. His senses and needs came to life again.

"So why do they think you did it?" She asked.  
"Shane told them. He said she would always run into my house. That's the truth. This was her sacred haven away from him. I didn't know she posted on facebook about me. She had a teenage crush on me. Somehow that got twisted into me being a perverted, old man taking advantage of her. I never touched her. She never acted on that crush either. She was just a kid looking for some friendly words and someone who wouldn't hurt her. I was that person," he said.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. Her hand came up and rested on top of his.

"I'm so sorry," she said.  
"So am I," he said.

He leaned down to get the scent of her hair closer to him. She smelled so good. His hands moved from her shoulders, down her arms, and around her. He leaned further down and ran his nose up her neck.

"Drew?" She swallowed. "I didn't come here to fuck you."  
"I didn't bring you here to fuck you," he said.

He kissed her neck and she let out a little moan. She turned around in his arms and kissed him. Their bodies spoke the truth that their mouths hadn't been able to say seconds ago. He pushed her pants and thong down her legs, lifted her up to sit in the window shelf and pulled the blouse over her head before kissing her neck again.

"God, I need you," he said.  
"Me too," she whimpered. "Please!"

He got down on one knee to remove her pants and thong hanging around her ankles. He opened his jeans and pushed them down to his knees along with his briefs. He grabbed her below her knees, yanked her out to the edge of the window shelf and entered her fast.

"Fuck!" He kissed her again. "You feel so good, baby."  
"Drew!" She dug her nails into his sides. "Don't stop! Please!"  
"Easy, I got you," he promised.

He held her close, burying his head in her hair, taking in her scent, kissing and biting her neck, pushing his hips forward again and again until she finally cried out. He leaned out to watch her come undone. Her head was leaned back against the window. He placed his hand on the cold glass next to her, gritted his teeth, gave her three more hard thrusts and came with a growl.

He stood there and watched her while he was trying to catch his breath. She had a little, blissful smile on her face. She finally opened her eyes and looked at him. Her smile grew wider and he smiled back. He moved his hand from the window and caressed her cheek. He looked away from her face and out the window again. His face dropped when he looked at the tree again. He pulled out of her and turned around so fast that he almost stumbled over his jeans that was still down by his knees.

"What is it?" She asked.  
"I feel so guilty," he answered.  
"Why?" She asked.  
"She died right there," he pointed at the window. "Right fucking there. If she had been hanging there today, she would have seen me fuck you as if her death doesn't matter at all. As if she never mattered."  
"Hey, don't do that," she said.

She jumped down from the window shelf, grabbed his arm and pulled him to the bed. She laid down next to him and wrapped her arms around him. He broke down in her arms, sobbing into her chest.

"She mattered," he cried.  
"Yes, she did," she stroked his back. "And so do you, Drew. You matter. I'll get the truth out there. I promise."  
"How?" He asked.  
"I'll fucking make him confess somehow," she said.


	3. Trust

Parker opened her eyes next morning and stared directly into Drew's eyes. He laid with a smile on his face and his hands under his head.

"Hi," she smiled. "How long have you been watching me?"  
"Long enough to be considered a creep," he chuckled.

He reached a hand forward and pushed some of her hair out of her face. He gently placed it on her cheek and stroked it.

"You're beautiful," he said.  
"You're not too bad looking yourself," she bit her lip. "And you're pretty well endowed downstairs too. The full package."  
"You have no idea how good is feels to hear someone talk about me like that," he said.

She moved closer and kissed him. He wrapped his arm around her, trying to pull her even closer.

"It's been so long," he mumbled. "Too long."  
"It's okay," she said.  
"Why did you go home with me last week? If this is not how you usually get your story, why now? Why me?" He asked.  
"Because I wanted to," she said. "The way you looked at me made me throw everything out the window. I didn't care about what you might have done in that moment. I wanted you. And my inner voice kept telling me I would be safe with you."

He kissed her again. The beautiful moment was ruined by an angry voice outside.

"Get back here, you little piece of shit!" A man yelled.  
"It's him," Drew said.

Parker flew out of the bed, ran out of the room and into the living room. She hid behind the curtain and peeked out to see the neighbor Shane pick up a rock and throw it after a kid riding away on his bicycle.

"That's Aleister," Drew appeared behind her. "Moody, little teenager. 13 or 14, I think. He blasts death metal everytime he comes home from school. I think he's really intelligent. I've seen him sitting outside solving the weirdest math problems. I've talked with him a couple of times. Before Dana died. Kid's got a good head on him."

Shane kicked some dirt and walked over to his car. He sped off in the same direction as Aleister had disappeared.

"What happens to Aleister if Shane finds him?" She asked.  
"He never does," Drew chuckled. "Like I said, that kid's got a good head on him."  
"He still has to come home," she said.  
"Eventually. And he gets beaten too. They all do," Drew sighed.  
"I need to go," she said.

She ran to the bedroom and started getting dressed. He came in there a few seconds later, ran a hand through his hair and watched her. He didn't know what to say. Her storming off like that hurt.

"Do you need a ride?" He tried.  
"No, my car is parked down by the bar. It's not that far," she said.  
"Okay," he said. "Ehm... So... Have fun, I guess."  
"Have fun?" She stared at him. "Oh, Drew."

She shook her head and walked over to him.

"I'm not running out on you," she said.  
"It looks like it," he said.  
"I told you I'd make him confess somehow. I meant it. Trust me," she said.  
"I do," he said.  
"Good," she pulled him down for a kiss. "Then you also gotta trust that you'll see me again."

He kissed her again and nodded. He had to trust her. It was hard but he had to. She was the only one who believed him.

"I need to run now while he's out so he doesn't see me leave your house," she said.  
"Why?" He asked.  
"I got a plan," she smiled secretly. "If you see me around here, don't acknowledge me and don't cause a scene."  
"You're scaring me," he said.  
"Just trust me," she said. "I got this."

She ran out of his house and back to her car parked by the bar. She drove to her old high school friend's home and knocked on the door. He opened with a cup of coffee in his hand, already dressed in his police uniform.

"Officer," she smirked.  
"I got no story for you," he chuckled.  
"You got more coffee?" She asked.  
"Of course," he said.

They had grown up together, gone to school together, and stayed friends over the years. Ali was her best friend and a damn good cop. Everytime she sniffed up a lead in a story, she would go to him with it. He would make sure it was followed up on. That was how she had helped the police over the years. She followed him to the kitchen and took the cup of coffee he offered.

"What's up?" He asked.  
"Drew McIntyre," she answered.  
"We got nothing," he said. "What have you got?"  
"He didn't do it," she said.  
"So who did?" He asked.  
"The foster dad," she answered.  
"Shane McMahon. He was the one showing us Dana's facebook. He provided us proof on Drew. We got nothing on Shane," he said.

She took a sip of her coffee. She hadn't realized how much she needed it until that moment. She hadn't gotten anything since leaving Drew's bed.

"He beats the kids," she said.  
"Anyone willing to testify to that?" He asked.  
"I personally saw him throw a rock at that Aleister kid this morning," she said.  
"What were you doing sniffing around his house?" He asked.  
"I wasn't. I was in Drew's house," she said.

His eyes widened and he stared at her.

"No," he said. "No, no, no! What the fuck were you doing there? Why do you go around messing with a suspected murderer like that?"  
"He didn't do it," she said. "Come on, Ali. You know me. When have I ever been wrong?"  
"Well," he sighed. "Never."  
"Exactly. You know I'm right," she said.

He drummed his fingers on his cup for a few seconds.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked.  
"Wire me up," she answered.  
"You wanna go in there?" He asked.  
"I'll get him to confess," she said.  
"It's not safe," he said.  
"With you listening on the other end, it will be. You'll never let anything happen to me. I trust you, so trust me back," she said. "Let's nail this motherfucker."


	4. Confession

"Okay, talk," Ali said.  
"Greetings, humans. This is countess alien from Jupiter," Parker joked.  
"Idiot," he smiled at her. "It works. You're coming through loud and clear."

They sat in the back of a van parked close enough to Shane's house for them to reach it fast, and still far enough away for Shane not to see it from his windows.

"Scared?" Ali asked.  
"Nervous," Parker blew out her breath. "Don't let him kill me."  
"Don't go in there. It's not too late to turn back," he said.

She eyed his coworkers who clearly didn't feel the need to back him up on those words. This was a mission that needed to be seen through or it would just be money out of the pocket. Ali had convinced them to give this a go even though they weren't entirely convinced it wasn't Drew who had done it.

"Will your new boy toy stay clear?" He asked.  
"He's not my boy toy. He's... I don't know. I like him, okay? And I told him not to acknowledge me if he sees me," she said.  
"Does he know you're going into Shane's house?" He asked.  
"Not exactly," she answered. "But I also told him not to cause a scene. I promised him to clear his name so I doubt he'll cause any trouble if he sees me. He needs this more than you do."  
"I just want justice for that poor girl," he said.  
"I'll bring it to you," she said.  
"Be careful," he said. "And remember, if you need help, your safeword is flowers. Somehow work it into the conversation. And if he confesses, we'll come storming right away."

He opened the side door of the van, and she stepped out of it.

"Good luck," he said.

The door closed again and she started walking towards Shane's house. It was late and dark. The kids were hopefully asleep and wouldn't be placed in the line of fire if anything was to happen. She walked past Drew's house and saw him in the window. His eyes widened and he looked scared as he watched her walk up Shane's driveway and knock on the door.

"No," Drew whispered. "Don't go in there."

He wanted to run out of his house and force her away from the door. The only thing keeping him rooted was his promise of trusting her. That along with Shane opening the door. He couldn't hear what was being said but he could see Shane scanning her body like a starving wolf.

"If you fucking hurt her!" Drew growled.

Shane tilted his head and licked his lips.

"And who might you be?" He asked.  
"Parker," she gave him a sideways smile. "Are you gonna invite me in or what?"  
"Why would I invite you in, lady?" He asked.  
"Because we got a common goal," she clicked her tongue. "Taking down Drew."

He smirked and stepped aside.

"Well, come on in, sugar," he said.  
"Thank you, darling," she said.

She walked into his house and looked around. No sign of the kids anywhere. Not even a sign of kids living there. There were no toys lying around.

"Do you live alone?" She asked.  
"The kids are upstairs sleeping. They know better than to come out after bedtime," he said. "Can I offer you a drink?"  
"The strongest you have," she grinned.  
"I got some vodka in the fridge," he said.  
"Perfect," she said.

He walked out in the kitchen and came back with two glasses and a bottle of vodka. He filled both glasses and handed her one of them.

"So who are you?" He asked.  
"I already told you. Parker," she answered.  
"Okay, Parker. Why do you wanna take down Drew?" He asked.  
"That bastard broke my heart!" She snarled.

She slammed down half the content in her glass while he chuckled at her anger.

"He broke your heart," he chuckled.  
"Only because I let him," she said. "I was soft back then. I shouldn't have let him get away with it. My next boyfriend sure as hell didn't. I made damn sure he knew never to fuck with me again. Or to do anything again. They'll never find his body."

His eyes widened at that info and then he broke out in a sick grin.

"You killed him?" He asked.  
"He deserved it," she said.  
"So why not kill Drew too?" He asked.  
"Are you kidding me? Everything is perfect with how it's set up in the news already. I'm gonna go over there and play the victim so they'll take him away. I'll make it look like I'm Dana number 2. They already think he did it. I don't care who did it, to be honest. I know he didn't because that motherfucker doesn't have it in him to hurt anybody. Someone did me a favor on this one," she said.

His grin grew even wider.

"I did," he said.  
"You did what?" She asked.  
"I killed Dana," he answered.  
"How?" She asked.

He took a big swig of his glass and licked his lips.

"She was always trouble. They all are. The money is good for having them here though," he took another swig. "I caught her in the garden sneaking away. She was gonna run away and live on her own. Teenage dreams and all that crap. I told her to get her ass back to bed, and the little bitch slapped me. She fucking slapped me. No one hits me and gets away with it."

He downed his glass, reached for the bottle and filled the glass again.

"So I picked up a stick and fucking beat her to death with it. I tried making it look like a suicide. I wasn't thinking clear. At least I managed to get the cops to believe it was Drew. She had a crush on him so that was easy. I just hinted he was a pedophile and that she used to go to his house, and they were all over him," he grinned sickly again. "Meanwhile I'm sitting here as a free man, just waiting to get a new kid to take her room. I need the money. Fucking kids! I hate them!"

He lifted a cushion on the couch and pulled out a bloody sweatshirt.

"She wore this. I took it as a souvenir before putting her up in the tree. I usual sleep on the couch, and I love holding it and smelling her. Her fear. Her blood. Her last breath," he sniffed the sweatshirt. "The cops never searched the house. I made them focus on Drew. I'm too clever for those idiots."

She stepped over to the window and sipped on her vodka.

"Smart man," she said.  
"I'm fucking brilliant," he raised his glass. "Cheers."  
"Cheers," she said.

She watched Ali and his coworkers run towards the house. Shane was smart but not smart enough. His time was up. The cops came barging through the door. Shane dropped his glass in shock.

"Shane McMahon, you're under arrest," Ali said.  
"What? I haven't done anything," Shane protested.  
"For murdering Dana. We got your confession," Ali said.

Parker lifted up her shirt and showed Shane the microphone she was wearing.

"You bitch! I'll get you for this! You're fucking dead!" Shane yelled.  
"Take him away," Ali said.  
"What about the kids?" Parker asked.  
"We got it covered. Someone's on their way to pick them up," Ali answered.

Shane was being dragged out of the house. Ali and Parker moved back to the van where he took the microphone off her again.

"Am I needed tonight?" She asked.  
"No," he smiled. "Go to him. Tell him. And bring him to the station tomorrow morning at 10. We'll be waiting for both of you."  
"Thank you," she said.

She hurried towards Drew's house. He had seen her from the window and opened the door before she could knock. She wrapped her arms around him, and he walked backwards, pulling her into the house. She pushed the door close behind her and looked up at him.

"It's over," she said.  
"It's over?" He asked.  
"I got his confession and proof. It's over, Drew. Your name will be cleared tomorrow. Everyone will know he did it," she said.

He dropped to his knees, pulling her with him down on the floor. She kept holding him as he cried down on her shoulder. This time it was tears of relief.

"It's over!" He cried. "It's finally over!"  
"It's okay," she repeated.  
"Thank you," he said.

He looked at her and dried his eyes before leaning in to kiss her.

"How can I ever thank you?" He asked.  
"A personal interview for my article would be good," she said.  
"Done deal," he laughed.  
"And a date," she said.  
"A date?" He asked.  
"Your first day out that doesn't involve the bar," she smiled. "Unless you're not interested in dating me, of course. I'll back off. No hard feelings."

He wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her up on his lap.

"No, no," he gave her a big smile. "I want a date with you. As a matter of fact, I want more."  
"How many more?" She teased.  
"At least ten," he said. "Probably more. I'm a greedy man."  
"You can have as many as you want," she said.


End file.
